Descent into Madness: The Death of FF.net
by Frozenflower
Summary: Spoof of a prisoner's diary. Recounts the HORRIFYING seven day (more than that now -_-;) shut down of FF.net. It's not...bad to be this obsessed is it? It's...normal, right?


Disclaimer-I don't own ff.net or any of the characters or people mentioned herein. A/N-This was meant to be a parody of a prisoners diary. Now that I think about it, it's probably not such a good topic to do a parody on ^_^* Anyway, please take this in the humorous fashion it was intended, I mean no insult.  
  
Descent into Madness: The Death of FF.net  
  
  


**Day One:**

  
  
It's day one, and not all is darkness…stories can still be read…I can still write. I'm talking to some people online from ff.net…it's nice to have company in this place. The emptiness is overwhelming…not being able to press that upload button…somehow I find myself mourning the search feature even though I didn't use it that much.  
  
My reviews—I can't see them, I can't give them…that's the worst somehow. I miss the comforting purple of the walls as they cradled me…it was something reminiscent of my childhood of playing in the lilacs, or perhaps just a misty scented recall of Trunks' hair.  
  
They tell me that it'll be seven days…seven long days stuck in this choking hole. My only comfort is talking to the other prisoners through the bars. I can see them, hear their voices, but we can't touch…I don't even know their names. I'm drawing a line in chalk on the wall, and keeping this journal as a record…people need to know about this. Well, until tomorrow, this is Day One.  
  
  


**Day two:**

  
  
  
It's odd…distinctly odd. The marks on the wall tell that me it's only been two days, yet seems like so much longer since I've heard the gentle hum of stories uploading, the rambling chatter of authors bring new works to life. It seems almost dead now. The ruffling shuffle of pages turning is all that's heard lately in these quiet halls. It's like an orchestra stopped in mid-note.  
  
The darkness is disturbing, I must note. Along with the eerie silence, it give the impression of a decaying corpse--that frightens me the most. A corpse…a little voice, persistent in its annoyance continually whispers in the back of my mind that it is dead. This is for good…fanfiction's not coming back…  
  
I take comfort from my other prisoners. Super-Saiyan-Monkey…Chris Marker…Burenda…I know their names, even if their faces are blank to me. Sometimes, late at night, we talk through the holes in the walls. I think they're all that keep me going. Knowing that I'm not alone…that others are suffering too. It's sick I know…am I some kind of masochist for gaining relief from this shared pain? Five more days to go…I don't know if I can make it. The walls are staring at me. Signing off, this is Day Two.  
  
  


**Day Three:**

  
  
  
This day seems particularly harsh. I find myself rolling in sweat tossed nightmares, trying to escape the reality that seems to encroach relentlessly from all sides, regardless of my will to escape it. The booming echo of footsteps in the silent halls reminds me of how truly alone I am.  
  
Even the muffled mutterings of my fellow inmates do little to comfort me. I hear the pain in their voices, and I know it for the demon that claws at my own heart. We recognize each other in the silence that is left. The stillness makes such recall very easy. Sometimes you can see all too clearly in the darkness.  
  
I can't seem to type anymore. My fingers have lost their volition, and are dead and purposeless as they jerk, stumbling over the keys. A sense of unreality is setting in. 'Why type?' my fingers seem to chant, a hollow monotonous hum. I can't summon the energy to argue with them. After all, I agree…all refutations would echo false, and my fingers—they would know the difference.  
  
Three days. Three scraggy scrawls upon the stone. It's all chalk—nothing more than that. This is Day Three, signing off.  
  
  


**Day Four:**

  
  
  
Quiet quiet quiet. All is quiet. Hushed, silent, solemn. The sound of nonexistence. How odd not to exist. The hapless halls of ff.net are not only quieted to a mere pitter patter of their usual busy hustle today, they're just...gone.  
  
Travelers seeking shade in the cool corridors, stumble to find the URL a mere mirage. It doesn't exist, or so my computer tells me. Is it a mere conjuring of a mind deprived? Billowing memories reflect what I had once believed to be concrete impressions of a stark white web page with elegant accents wrought in purple hues. Now, search as I might, no such page appears upon my screen.  
  
I must force myself to wait until tonight. Tonight I will speak with my fellow prisoners through the walls...We use a secret system called AIM (AOL Instant Messenger), it's primitive, but we manage to make ourselves understood. I can't explain how frustrating it is, holding this double reality balanced in my head...it's surreal. Like a juggler, I struggle to keep the balls aloft, real and illusory, until the truth is known. This is Day Four...signing off.   
  


**Day Five:**

  
  
  
A grasping loafing lethargy has gripped my heart. It all seems so pointless. Up and down, the page teases me with furtive glances, only to disappear in a whispering giggle of 404 errors before I can determine its veracity. I think I'm losing it. That undefinable IT that delineates the border between madness and sanity.  
  
Choked whispers seem to tease my ears, ripping me into a wild twist of hope spiraling through anger, frustration and finally despair as rumor makes itself known as only that. I just don't have any fight left. I feel listless. Left limpid and despairing to blow idly away on the winds of fate. If fate truly does control the winds. They seem more mindless. Chaotic maunderings of a vapid universe, intent on painting my life in its bright hellish overtones. Or worse yet...not caring at all.  
  
Muttering mumbles, they mock me...moans...they stalk malicious through my mind...stop it...stop it...stop IT...STOP IT!!!! They laugh. Tinkling hues of binary sprinkle the page....STOP LAUGHING AT ME! They're gone...oh, and the prisoner stuck in her castle longs for a rescue...but who will save her? Who will scale the walls? All the princes are dead...this is Day Five...still alive...signing off.  
  
  


**Day Six:**

  
  
  
Xing said it. Said the words that set me free--set me free and confined me all the same. Up, possibly by the 20th of June. Down, down, down for now.   
  
A plodding sticky march is all that's left. I lost it yesterday. I admit it. It's getting to be too much for me. Seeing an end in sight, however...it gives me hope. I keep hearing things. "It's up," someone whispers in my ear as I sleep. Awakening, however, I see a dull white page, punctuated by a singular text box, spelling out the path of my recovery, the unbearable agony of my wait.  
  
Waiting  
Wanting  
Wailing  
Foaming  
Aching  
Needing  
Free  
I  
Can't  
Take  
It  
Oh  
Noble  
Net  
End my  
Torment!  
  
Worn, worn, frayed and torn, tattered battered lost forlorn. My mind. My sanity, all threads. All I can hope is that it comes back soon. Fanfiction.net...the source of all, who would have guessed? Rules and regulations, buttons and Fido...it's structure...I am guideless, wandering in the wilderness without it. Grasping, all my fingers find is blackness, and an aching hole where my heart used to be. Another line, the chalk is almost gone. This is Day Six, signing off.  
  
  


**Day Seven:**

  
  
  
Still alone, alone in this whiteness, nothing to do, nothing to read, even the other prisoners are silent now, for the most part. I think they are caught up in their own battles, waging their own wars against the darkness.  
  
The last day. This is supposedly the last day, and...I don't know what to think. I've been too long alone, perhaps, the idea of reemerging into a world of words almost haunts me. The darkness, at first fearful, has become almost friendly. No expectations here, no one judging, no eyes that widen in distain, no hurtful flames.  
  
I itch and I chafe within these stone walls, but at the same time, the thought of venturing forth into the world again is somehow...frightening. FF.net...I have such mixed feelings now...it is my Goliath.  
  
Anticipation tingles along my nerves, and light deprived pupils strain, ears listen hopefully as the search engine hums, waiting for that fateful moment when I am released. But will I go? That is the question, now. Lives re-written in one loathesome week, content in my prison, will I rejoice at the sound as the door is unlocked, or will I hide from the light? The chalk is gone, I'll just have to remember. This is Day Seven, signing off...  
  


_Freedom…_

  
  
  
I am free to leave now. The wait on the last day was…interminable. The harsh, bright glare of the computer screen seems too much somehow. It's angry with me, I know it. Walking the hushed halls of ff.net, it's almost like I'm someone else, not the girl who used to zip screaming down the corridors, flinging reviews as she went. That girl is gone now, replaced with someone quieter, more broken. A sedate walk is all I have left in me.  
  
The worst part is the not knowing. As long as I come here, it could happen again. The figurative Bastille is still standing, and I am left awaiting return to its dank and musty halls.  
  
Freedom…the word, the concept…they're not matched in reality. Clinging tightly to my characters, I limp sadly down the corridor. Fingers stiff and broken, stained with chalk, and other, more loathesome things best left undiscussed, I tap out a stilted review, then two. It's not the same. Not the same at all, but it will have to do. Welcome back, ff.net.  
  
  


_~Finis~_

  
  
***As you can see, ironically, my prediction came true. Hence this late posting. OH WOE IS ME!!!! R&R Please ^_^*** 


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